A God's Eye View
by phoebusapolllo
Summary: What would it be like to look at the world through a God's Eye View? Quorra, daughter of Poseidon, discovers what it means to be a god after living as a human for most of her life. This Fan Fiction is in progress. Rated M for language and sexually explicit scenes.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: I do not own Percy Jackson and the characters of this series. The Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus Series belong to Rick Riordan. The mythology in this text belongs to Ancient Greece and its people. I do, however, own Quorra and do not give any other the rights to use her. I did not profit from this fan fiction. _

I had been inhaling the smell of hair bleach for so long I thought I was going to get cancer. Another irrational thought on the part of my human tendencies. Gods can't get cancer. Well, I assumed they could if they really wanted to. Within the realm of shapeshifting and all their other special powers, cancer shouldn't have been excluded. But then again, who really wants cancer? Then again, what god need to dye their hair when they can just will it to whatever color they want? Again, another human tendency.

I completed my blonde nightmare by spilling the remainder of the hair dye solution onto the dirty clothes I had tossed in a pile carelessly. Classic me. I was too lazy to clean it up, and assuming it had already begun to take effect, left it there to do its worst. More classic me.

I willed the water out of my hair and stared at the white blonde mass upon my head. "It's just hair," I whispered to myself as I raked my hands through it. "Just fucking hair," I grumbled. Once I had brushed it through, then conquered the curls with a flat iron, I sauntered back into my room.

After throwing on a t-shirt and some sweats, I descended down the stairs. As I collapsed on the couch, regret hit me in waves. _Go change it. You look insane… It's not that bad. Just wait until you get an opinion on it… By the time anyone sees it, they'll be too scarred to give you an opinion… It'll be easy to change it back. It won't last forever…_

I was flipping through the channels, when the door swung open. He stepped inside smoothly, slowly closing the door so the ring of sunlight lingered. He had flipped off his Ray Bans and began to smile at me, when his face paled. "Nice hair, sweetheart," he grinned. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Sometime too blonde the hair of heaven shines?"

I let my head fall into my hands, the ring of blonde hair surrounding me in a curtain of embarrassment. I heard him continue towards me, plopping himself down next to me on the couch. He tugged on a strand of hair, "And the reasoning behind this is?"

"Artistic expression? Symbolism?" I slumped back. "I should dye it back, shouldn't I?"

He shrugged, grabbing the remote from the tabletop, "It's not bad." I rolled my eyes. "You have that ability of all brunettes to pull of really light hair." He put his hand across my shoulders, too close for my comfort, while he examined my hair. "Plus it makes you look less pale."

I pulled away from him, wandering into the kitchen. My heart was pounding and if I had stayed next to him any longer, I was afraid he'd start to notice I was about to sweat through my clothes. I scanned the cabinets, the countertops, and anything else I could to keep me occupied. My eyes landed on the calendar that Hermes had filled up with all of his important meetings and such.

"What's the Winter Solstice?" I asked, placing my finger on the current date.

"You don't know what the Winter Solstice is?"

"I do. But...what is it's importance?"

"There's just a party and everyone gets wasted. Nothing new." After a break to skip through some channels, he asked me, "Are you going?"

"I don't think so. Do I have to?"

He shrugged, "You don't **have** to... I can take you if you want."

I flushed. "O–okay. Yeah," I breathed. I paused, staring straight at him. His sky blue eyes were drawn from partial focus on the television screen to my awkward self.

"Are you alright," he asked politely.

I exhaled, "Yeah. I'm okay." I paced back through the kitchen. "What–what time?"

He smiled, looking at the time on the cable box, "How about 8?"

I nodded, knotting my fingers together. I rounded the island in the kitchen once more, before I decided to head back up the steps. "Where are you going?" he asked, laughing.

"Fix my hair and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be wearing," I answered in a harsh, anxious tone.

"A, it's semiformal. B, keep the hair. And, C, you are aware that you don't have to go through all of the effort, right?" His arms were laying across the back of the couch. He lifted his hand, snapped his fingers, and, after my eyes readjusted, his jeans and shirt were replaced with a button up and some khakis. "Easy."

I gave an incoherent, mumbled sigh as an answer, before I progressed up the stairs again. I searched through the still halfway unpacked boxes for a dress. "Dress, dress, dress," I chanted, finishing my unpacking. "What kind of poor girl from Southern California has a goddamn semiformal dress?" I whined.

When I got to the bottom of the box, I found a dress that I had worn to my cousin's wedding a couple years back. Fortunately, because there was no difference between fourteen year old, 5'3", flatchested me and eighteen year old 5'4" flatchested me, I was able to fit into the dress. It was greyish pink and simple. I had a pair of sandals I could still fit into that weren't too plain. I figured I could do my makeup to draw away from the utter plainness that was myself.

As the hour neared, I began to panic. Every task had been accomplished, everything that could have been prepared for was prepared for, however I started to feel like the walls were crashing down on me. _What if I wasn't wearing an appropriate dress? What if no one wanted me at the party? What if he was just joking about taking me? What if he never liked me this whole time? What if he was never my friend this whole time?_

"Quorra?" he called. "Are you ready to go?"


	2. Chapter 2

I know it really wasn't possible at that point, but going up to Olympus lowered my self-esteem even more. And my self esteem was pretty low. Olympians were pretty. Olympians were intelligent. Olympians were powerful. Olympians were perfection. I wasn't.

Apollo was your typical, undeniably attractive god. His eyes were sky blue. His hair was golden and as soft as silk. His skin was perfectly tan. He was tall and muscular; his voice deep and melodic. His confident, sleek vibe emphasized the fact that he knew anything and everything. Girls chased after him. Guys chased after him. He was perfection.

I, on the other hand, was your typical, awkward teenage girl. My eyes were an unfortunate shade of green; my hair, normally a dull brown, was, at that moment, an unnatural shade of blonde, and my skin made me look albino. I was short and skinny; scarecrow like. My voice sounded like a boy going through puberty and I had a laugh my older brother had trademarked as the "scream-laugh." I could barely handle myself in public; maybe it was because I was socially awkward or maybe it was because I was as stupid as a fucking chihuahua. Yes, I had to use spell check on that word. Nobody chased after me. In fact, they probably ran away from me.

So, with that said, when I emerged from the safe haven that was my room, I felt completely and utterly vulnerable. He was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs in his khakis and button up, the same ones he had on before, casually leaning against the door frame like a model. No, better than a model. An icon.

My body was about to be sent into another wave of panic, when I realised that he was in the middle of a conversation with Hermes, who arrived home from work precisely on time. During the span of two months that I had lived with him, only in a friends manner I might add, I never saw him miss a deadline, which included coming home at the exact time he always did. It was almost relaxing sometimes, never having to worry about someone being late, or even early for that matter. In fact, I had even begun to subconsciously schedule my own life.

Hermes saw me first. When Apollo caught sight of his eyes widening, he turned back towards the stairs. A smirk grew on his lips before he announced, "You look nice."

I tried to ignore Apollo's eyes as I descended down the rest of the stairs. "Thanks," I said, without making eye contact. I watched Hermes' face remain confused.

"I know I may be preoccupied some of the time–"

"Some of the time?" Apollo mocked.

Hermes, ignoring him, continued, "However, I do not recall previously seeing you with blonde hair…"

"It's new," I answered.

He opened his mouth to answer me, when his phone began to ring. At that moment, Apollo pushed himself off of the wall, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. He waved to Hermes over his shoulder as he pulled the door shut.

"You seem psyched out," he announced as we walked along the pathway. He still had a hold on my hand, swinging it gently between us.

"You seem calm," I answered.

"Have you ever seen me not calm?"

"Yes," I stated matter of factly. "That time I got bored so I tried to climb a tree in the backyard. When you found me, you about shit your pants."

"Hey, you know I have a bad history with trees."

"That was one time."

"For your information, trees have fucked me over plenty of times."

"I'm sure they have," I smirked.

He rolled his eyes, pulling me into the crowd. The courtyard was lavishly decorated, banquet tables filled with the most incredible food you could imagine, crystal chandeliers hung magically in the air, the music the Muses played was unique to each and every listener. We wandered around, Apollo occasionally picking up on conversations, introducing me to people, then making quick exits when he realised I wasn't comfortable. Eventually we reached the edge of the courtyard.

We sat on the wall, watching the partygoers continue their activities. "Are you okay?" he asked me for maybe the fifth time that night.

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I can handle myself."

He rolled his eyes, "Sure, you can." He peered at me for some time before he stood up, and offered me his hand. Like a lady, I took it, then I followed him as we wandered down a different path. We were silent as we entered a neighborhood on the opposite side of Olympus. At last, he began to walk up the old stone steps to one of the houses.

He unlocked the door, pushing it open to let me in. It was strategic. He was going to do something. He was planning something. Maybe I was over analyzing. Maybe I was being paranoid. But he wasn't being like he was. He was being quiet. He was being almost extra calm. He was being sultry.

I took a few steps in, trying to catch my breath so he wouldn't notice I was about to hyperventilate. _Focus on the furniture. Look at that chair. That's a nice chair. That's a nice–_ His fingers brushed my neck as they pulled my hair back over my shoulder. I felt him leaning towards me. Closer and closer until I felt his breath on my skin. My eyelids batted shut as his lips pressed to my jawline.

And then it was over. _God, what's wrong. Do I smell bad? I bet I smell bad. Oh Jesus._ But then his fingertips were brushing my hair back over my shoulders. Delicately, they found the zipper at the top of my dress and slowly pulled it down. He ran his hands across my shoulder blades, lifting the dress up and over. I watched the pink fabric drop to my ankles.

Then his hands were gone again. He was doing something behind me. I heard the fabric of his shirt brushing together. _He's taking his clothes off. Oh my God. Is this really happening? Should it happen? Do you want it to happen?_ I gulped.

He touched my jawline again, tilting my face towards his. His lips met mine. I felt engulfed in him. My lips fit to his just like I had hoped they would. His hand tugged at my waist, spinning me towards him. He gripped my waist with both hands, slowly working one up and one down.

I rested my hands on his chest. His muscles were taut underneath his burning skin. I almost wanted to pull away, afraid if I got too close, latched on for too long, I might get burned. But it was a good kind of burn. A relieving burn. A sensation that once I got ahold of, I couldn't get enough.

As his grip tightened around the back of my leg and he swiftly lifted me up, I broke our lips apart to breath. I rested my nose against him, inhaling quietly. I ran my hands through his soft hair, down his neck, and across his back. He felt strong, yet soft. Molded to me, protecting me.

I hadn't noticed he had been moving. Suddenly, we were approaching a bed. It was dim. The only light in the room was coming from the moon outside the glass doors. He laid me down on the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing me again. _God, I like him so much. _

We laid there kissing for a while. For so long I thought that's all he was going to do. Just kiss me. _Maybe he was put off by you, but didn't want to completely dump you. _Once again, he had to prove me wrong. He leaned onto me, sliding the strap of my bra off my shoulder. "Is this alright?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

He reached underneath my back, fiddling with the clasp before he finally got it undone. And then, as if it was just some pesky vermin, threw it onto the floor and went for my underwear. He asked me again if it was okay. With my permission, he took them off and went for his own.

_Oh God. You're getting naked with a guy. You're going to have sex with a guy. What is going on? _My inner monologue had almost distracted me from what I was about to partake in. He spread my legs, climbing in between them. His gentle touches calmed me down, luring me into him.


	3. Chapter 3

When my eyes fluttered open, he was gone. The soporific clouds hanging in the sky and the warm sheets begged me to stay and waste away in the heavenly mess. I indulged for a few minutes, before I slipped out of the covers and pulled the curtains over the French doors, hiding the sepulchral atmosphere from view.

I pulled my bra and underwear back on before I began to roam the house. I followed a hallway, down two or three steps, to the kitchen. I wandered through the house, keeping some respectful limitations in mind, then I made my way back to the bedroom. After an attempt to climb back into the covers, I realised they had lost all warmth after being exposed for so long.

I was standing beside the bed, staring longingly at it while I brushed my hair out of my eyes, when his arms wrapped around my waist. His lips pressed to my neck like they had the night before. However, I didn't have the dark to hide all of my worries. Now, I was under a spotlight, my every move easily scrutinized. I pulled his arms off. "Where'd you go?" I asked.

I spun around, covering myself with my arms. His smile dropped into a confused smirk, then broke back into a grin, "A meeting? I didn't want to wake you up." His fingers were still gliding against my waist. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah. I didn't mean– I wasn't trying to say– I was just wondering," I stuttered, blushing.

He caught on. "This doesn't have to change anything," he stated, catching me off guard.

"Yeah, I–I–," I stopped myself before I got even more embarrassed. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Sure, you can borrow my shower. Just remember to bring it back after you're done," he teased.

"Shut up," I muttered as he pulled me to one of the many doors leading into the bedroom. Before he could reach for the door knob, I opened the door and slipped inside.

I turned the water on to the highest heat. As my skin turned bright red, I felt my curls bounce back into place. I mindlessly scrubbed my skin raw. The water seeped through my pores, cleansing me inside out. The steam filtered through my lungs. My breath thickened. I was almost under the surface before I pulled myself back to the shower in Olympus.

The cold wrapped itself around me as I opened the shower door. I stepped onto the icy tile floor, leaving a trail as I reached for the towel. Halfway through the drying process I realised there was no need, so I finished the rest myself by willing the loose liquid out of my hair and off of my body. The more I did it, the easier it got. But it still felt like cheating. I wasn't a god; I was a cheater.

After I was done examining myself in the mirror, I wrapped the towel around my chest and ducked back into the bedroom. A pair of my clothes were waiting for me on the newly made bed. I snatched them, went back into the bathroom, and threw them on. I wandered back through the house and found him in the kitchen. He was on the phone, his free hand knotted in his hair. "We've already been over this– Then, have him call her, because yelling at me has accomplished nothing so far."

If we had still lived in a world of flip phones, he would have been able to express his anger through the loud snap that normally followed a quick and forceful shut of the phone. However, the new touch screen technology diminished the intensity of his frustration, limiting it to a thumb slamming itself down onto a glass screen with an anticlimactic tap. I would have laughed at him, but I was more concerned with who this _her_ was.

"Everything alright?" I asked, carefully making my way down the steps. He spun around. Before he could attempt a horrible lie, I continued, "Who's _her_?"

He pressed his lips together, sliding the phone onto the counter. "_Her_," he drew out, "is you."

I took a couple more hesitant steps. "And who needs to call her?"

"Your dad."

"My dad?"

He pushed the phone towards me. "You might as well get it over with."

I dialed my father's number into the touch screen keypad and wandered back through the house. He picked up after I had made it into the sunroom. "Hello?"

"Dad?" I asked.

"Quorra?"

I shut the door before I asked, "What's going on?"

I heard his condescending sigh, followed by the even more condescending, "Quorra." I paced to the window as he explained, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be with Apollo."

"What do you mean with?"

"I mean I don't want you pursuing a relationship with him."

"Wha–where is this coming from?" I demanded, almost shouting.

"Quorra, I know what you've been doing with him–"

"Oh my God," I moaned.

"As your father, I cannot allow this to persist. I don't think it's the best choice for you and especially not at this time in your life–"

"Okay, I get it, Dad," I sighed. "Just, bye." I pressed the little red bar across the screen and stomped back into the kitchen. As I threw the phone back on the countertop, I snapped, "You told him?"

"Told who about what?"

"My dad about last night!"

"I didn't tell him."

"Then how does he know?"

"I don't know, Quorra. Things spread insanely fast up here."

"But how does he–"

"I was called to a meeting with him, my father and Hera this morning."

"About last night?"

"No, about your hair. He was afraid you were going through a phase."

I rolled my eyes, before demanding, "What happened?"

"Your dad told me that he doesn't want _us_ together."

"Oh, so there's an _us_ now."

"Well, he thought there was an _us_."

"Do you think there's an _us_?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"Well I've never been in an _us_, so I wouldn't know either."

There was a pause.

"Do you want there to be an _us_?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I don't care. Do you?"

He repeated my earlier gesture, "I don't care either." He added after a moment, "Your dad cares."

"I don't give a fuck if he cares. In fact, I might go along with it just to piss him off."

Another pause.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he offered.

"Sure."

"You got somewhere in mind?"

"No, you?"

"You like museums?"

"Yeah."

"Want to go to the Met?"

"Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

I was halfway to the front door when he stopped me, "Where are you going?"

"To the Met."

"We don't have to walk."

"Well, I prefer to walk. I need my exercise."

A foolish smirk grew on his face, "After last night, I don't think you have to worry about exercising." My face grew hot, so I started quickly out of the door. When he caught up to me, he whispered, "You know, it's only awkward if you make it awkward."

I only blushed more. As I tried to block him out, I only became more aware of my surroundings. The dark clouds still hung above us heavily, bringing cold air along to cause me even more discomfort. I wrapped my arms around myself only to have him handing me his jacket a few seconds later.

He could only go so long without talking, so it didn't surprise me when he started another conversation after I put the jacket on. "That jacket is older than you," he smiled.

"How old is it?"

He looked up at the clouds, like they would give him the answer. "70s, early 80s. Sometime during the Punk movement. They all kind of blend together eventually."

"Is it hard? Remembering things?"

He shrugged, "Sometimes. But you eventually learn to pick and choose which things you want to remember. I'm best at it of all of us."

"Of all the gods?"

"Yeah. At least, **now** I am. Mnemosyne, of course, used to be the best. But she's faded."

"Faded?"

He nodded, "When gods become less important to man, they fade into nonexistence. I guess its kind of ironic: they've forgotten Memory." He laughed bitterly, "However she did fade during the Cold War, so I guess it kind of makes sense."

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever read 1984?"

"Do I look like the type to read?"

He smiled, "It's a book that was written during the Cold War in response to Socialism. Basically what happens is the government become so controlling, they have the power to…edit history. If something the government once said proves to be wrong or if there's a person that falls out of favor with the government, they rewrite all the articles and other documents to either fix their wrong statements or delete the person. However, not only do they control history, they also monitor thoughts...memories." He stopped himself. "What I'm saying is the fact that the Goddess of Memory faded during a time where this was seen as the future seems a bit funny to me."

We were already out of the elevator and on the street by the time he had finished. "So do they overthrow the government?"

Grinning, he announced, "Why would they want to overthrow Big Brother? They love Big Brother."

When I gave him a look of complete confusion, he grabbed my hand and led me through the crowds of people. We flew across the street, over the grates in the sidewalk and down into the subway. Though I would never consider staying in the subway for more than an hour, something about it gave me a rush. Little electric cars running through holes in the ground, bringing people to and fro. Somehow they were always moving and always stopping. They reminded me of being human in the fact that if they were always on the go, they would lose all purpose. If man were always on the go, it would defeat the purpose of being man, of stopping, of faltering, of overcoming. Of seeing many faces, getting to know some well, but others are just in the crowd; helping people, leaving people, experiencing people. Something about it was so mundane. If man was a machine, they would be a subway.

"You okay?" he asked, as he pulled me on board.

"Yeah, just lost in thought," I answered.

"What were you thinking about?"

"The subway," I smirked.

He smiled back at me, tilting my head up towards his so he could kiss me. When he pulled back, I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. A boy had kissed me. A really pretty boy. A really pretty boy kissed a girl like me. "What are you thinking about now," he breathed in the three inches of space between us.

I shrugged, breaking eye contact. He still had his hand on my jaw as the subway came screeching a halt. After several more stops and several more kisses, we got off. He held my hand, while I worried about him noticing my sweaty palms. A couple blocks later and we were on the steps of one of the largest buildings I've ever seen.

He knew I was an art geek, but I don't think he got how intense I was about it until we stepped foot in the door. I must have looked like I had nearly been struck by lightning. I was staring up and around. I felt so excited I was shaking. I almost peed my pants. He even had to tug a little on my hand when I spent too much time at an exhibit.

Occasionally, if he had experienced a work of art first hand, he would tell me about it. "I'm really aging myself, aren't I?" he said as I paced around one of the African sculptures.

"If anything, you're making yourself seem younger," I answered.

"How?"

I peeked out from behind the sculpture, "Well, when people think old, they normally think decrepit and sort of out of it, but the fact that you're recalling all these things like they happened yesterday kind of proves that you are very much alive and not decrepit or out of it.."

He followed me around the statue. "You're a lot smarter than you look," he smirked, pulling me close to him.

"You're a lot older than you look," I smiled back. Just like I guessed he would, he leaned down and kissed me again.

After a few more exhibits, we left the museum with a little under a third of it conquered. We had missed lunch by several hours so we stopped for pizza on our way back. Instead of taking the subway, we wandered down the streets for God knows how long, until we arrived back home.

The sun was setting as we climbed up the many steps to his house. He pulled me towards the bedroom with the same smirk he wore when he was about to drop an innuendo. He sat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. He quickly stripped the shirt from my body as I started to become uneasy. Then suddenly he stopped his lips trailing down my neck. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're tense."

"I'm always tense."

"You weren't this tense last night."

I sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked again.

"Nothing, just keep going."

He frowned, but pressed his lips to mine anyway. Next he rolled me under him. He slipped my pants off and soon we were both in our underwear. "Alright," he huffed. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"It **has** to be something." He sat back. "Is it your dad?"

"No."

"Just tell me," he begged. His hands rested on my thighs, massaging my skin gently.

I shrugged, placing my knotted hands on my chest. "Can we do this another time?"

He looked shocked for a split second. Flustered, he muttered, "Sure. I guess." He removed himself from in between my legs and laid down beside me. I slipped under the covers and pulled them up to my neck. After we had both wallowed in our embarrassment for a few moments, I whispered, "Apollo, I'm cold."

He wrapped himself around me. I weaved my hand into his. As I relaxed into him, my heartbeat found its resting speed. I was no longer tense, no longer cold, no longer embarrassed. I was with him emotionally as much as I was physically. We were melded together like the sun in the sky or the fish in the sea. I was dissolved.


	5. Chapter 5

When I woke up, I heard his car pulling out of the driveway. Monday morning. He had a job to do. I put my clothes back on, washed the sleep from my face, and returned to the place I was supposed to be residing. As I entered the house, I heard impatient footsteps rounding the corner.

He grinned mischievously when he saw me, "How was your weekend, Quorra?"

"Shut up, Hermes," I blushed. I watched him sort through some files sitting on the countertop. "Going to work?"

"Have I ever not gone to work?"

"Touche."

He ran his hand through his dark curls in distress as he flipped through the contents of one of the folders. His hand was mindlessly clamped over his phone, as though it was a thoroughly ingrained part of his body. He peered closely at something on the sheet of paper before he closed the folder and placed it under his arm. "See you later, Quorra."

"Hermes." I stopped him. "How did you know?" I asked hesitantly.

With a quick reappearance of his smirk, he continued towards the door, while answered, "There's only one thing that happens when Apollo takes someone home. The extremity may be unknown, but the minimum is always achieved." He slipped out of the door with a wink.

When I returned to my room and sat down on my bed, I quickly realised how boring my life was without Apollo. I attempted to remember what my hobbies were before I started intimately interacting with him, but my mind was a blank. The only thing I could focus on for more than ten seconds was him. I laid in bed the entire day, doodling his face from memory. Eventually I tired and fell asleep, because after all, dedicating all the thoughts in your mind to one person could be pretty draining.

I awoke when the weight on the bed shifted and I was being flipped over. Apollo lay on the opposite side of the bed, turning me towards the middle so he could kiss me. "Have you been sleeping all day?" he laughed.

"Maybe," I grinned, stretching my arms out.

"Well, in that case, I probably should inform you that your father has requested your return to Atlantis after he found out that my relations with you had all but stopped."

I rolled my eyes, "Well he can go fuck himself if he thinks I'm gonna do whatever he wants…"

His laughed was concealed inside his mouth as he swept his hand across my face. He pulled me close to kiss me yet again, but then sat up suddenly. "Come on."

"Come on, where?" I yawned.

"Let's go to my place. Grab a pair of clothes."

I obeyed and let him drag me through the rain to his house. As he pulled me into the bedroom, I let him take the extra pair of clothes from me and throw them to the side. I let him intertwine us as we laid together on the bed. I let him take off my clothes. I let him melt into me like we had two nights before. I let him talk to me afterwards. I let him order pizza and turn on a movie I had never seen before. I let him fall asleep next to me. Finally, I let him disappear before I woke up the next morning.

I was alone. Again. This time a little more empty than the first. This time a little more motivated than the first. After I used his shower for the second time, I pulled on the clothes he had predicted I would need. As I wandered aimlessly around the house, I was prompted to finished my tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art by the brochure I had left sitting on the kitchen counter.

I didn't take my chances navigating the subway. Instead I caught a cab up to the museum, and suddenly I was in a whole different world. I had no boyfriend's arm to hold onto as I found my way into the museum and through the ticket lines. As I entered the closest exhibit I could find, I relaxed. The art world was my friend no matter how crowded.

As I weaved through the sculptures, I found myself constantly running into the same woman, like I was somehow drawn to her by some unspecific force. She was middle-aged, but still as stunning as a nineteen year old model. Every so often, we caught each others gaze and smiled politely.

I got through six or seven rooms before we made physical contact. Suddenly, I felt her sweep her arms around me, tying her cardigan around my waist. I jumped back, but she had a firm hold on my arm. "Sweetheart, you need to come to the bathroom."

As I looked through the sleeves of the cardigan dangling in front of my legs, I saw the bright golden splotches of Mother Nature all over my white pants. I was humiliated–no–mortified. I was humilified. I let her drag me into the ladies' room. She had me hand her the pants I was wearing, so she could wash them out while I dealt with my embarrassment in the lonely metal stall.

"Are you alright?" she asked me as she slipped the pants over the stall door with another backup tampon in the pocket.

"Yeah," I mumbled, putting the pants back on. As I exited the stall, I thanked her.

She shrugged, "Our kind need to have each other's backs."

_Our kind?_ I followed her out of the bathroom. "What do you mean _our kind_? You mean you're…"

"A woman?"

I nodded quickly. As I regained some sort of comfort level with her, I continued, "I was about to say. I thought you knew something secret about me."

"Like the fact that you're a god?" she said with a completely straight face. She continued to walk through the museum at an astonishingly fast pace.

"How did you–"

"You think I would've been so oblivious? Washing the ichor from your pants and not catching on?"

I shook my head, "No, I just–"

She smiled kindly, "I'm only teasing, sweetheart."

I relaxed again, "So… Are you a god?"

She led me to one of the table in the dining section. With a quick spin of her hand, some of the food they were selling appeared before us. "Actually, I'm a Titan, but, not to worry, I ally with the Olympians."

I blushed, "Well even if you do ally with the Olympians, can you promise to keep my ordeal a secret?"

She broke into a grin again, "Are you sure you don't want your boyfriend knowing his mother had to wash period blood out of your jeans in the Met's bathroom sink?"

Mid-chew, my mouth dropped open. "You're joking."

Leto did Apollo's signature shrug and opened her bottle of water. I didn't just drown in embarrassment. I sank into the deepest depths of the Humiliation Ocean, dragged down by the steel ball of Shame chained to my foot. After I had collapsed into a heap on the table, I heard her laugh softly, "It's alright, sweetheart. You should've seen us in the Bronze Age." I giggled quietly into my arms, and she continued to talk. "Your relationship with my son has caused quite an upset."

I lifted my head up, trying to cover my unease, "And how do you feel about it?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Well, I never thought my son would go for someone who bleeds through in a New York museum, but I guess there's a first for everything." She nodded her head to the food as if to tell me to continue eating. She placed her elbows on the table, holding her hands in an intertwined ball as she gazed into the indoor sculpture garden. "You are aware of my son's history with women."

I nodded, "Yes."

She peered at me, "You're young and naive. I would hate to see your heart broken so early in life." I tensed and stared at her with wide eyes. She rested her hand on mine. "My son means well. He just doesn't know how to deal with emotions." She bit her lip in thought. "He's scared…"

"Of what?" I huffed.

"Commitment, loss of emotional control...responsibility of children."

"I'm not–"

"I know you're not pregnant. I just washed physical evidence down the drain. But if you continue this sort of relationship with him you **will** end up pregnant and he **will** end up leaving you." She sighed, looking at the golden statue of Diana in the center room, "I love Apollo, but sometimes I wish he was a little more like his sister."

We talked for a little longer before she disappeared into a thin mist with the excuse of "family business." I finished the Coke she bought me and left the museum promptly. I wandered around New York aimlessly in a fit of hopeless passion. I watched passerby couples hold hands and steal secret glances at each other. I saw a man and his young daughter play with their dog in Central Park. I received a flower from an old woman who happened to be trimming her rose plant as I walked by her home.

I could've been them if I were human. I wanted to hold my partner's hand like the world was ending the next day and I needed to make the most of it. I wanted to have kids so I could watch them grow up and have kids of their own. I wanted to grow old, knowing I could make people happier just by the tiniest gestures. I could have been a part of a puzzle, but instead I was an irrelevant pawn.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The new characters introduced, though bare striking resemblance in names to characters of the Hunger Games, are completely unrelated. This story has been in the works since before the Hunger Games movies were released and before I had ever read the books. I considered renaming them in order to avoid demurral, however I have decided to stay true to myself and keep their original names.

In the words of Cosima Niehaus, "This is my biology, it's my decision."

* * *

We had been laying on the couch for almost an hour, doing nothing but kissing. In between every peck, I thought, "He's going to leave you. He's only using you. He doesn't actually like you."

"You know, it's incredibly easy to tell when you're upset," he announced pulling away prematurely.

I pulled my gaze away from the ceiling. "It took you this long to notice?" I smirked.

He rolled his eyes, brushing my comment away. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged, resisting the urge to say _nothing_ as I always did. He scanned me intensely with his bright blue eyes as if he was trying to read my thoughts, which wouldn't be terribly surprising if he could. "Just tired, I guess," I sighed.

He laughed, "Oh, come on. Even if I wasn't the God of Truth, I would still be able to tell that was a lie."

"Can I just keep some thoughts to myself?"

"As long as they don't affect what we're doing."

"So this is just about you having a good time?"

"Isn't that kind of what having a relationship is all about?" I pulled his hands off of me and sat straight up. "Is this our first fight?" he teased as I walked out of the living room. I stopped in the kitchen after I heard him remove himself from the couch and resolved that there would be imminent confrontation no matter where in the house I wandered to.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked him as placed himself in front of my view.

"Why am I doing what?"

"Why are you–why are you with me?"

He shrugged, stepping forward, "Because I like you?"

"No, I mean honestly."

"That was honest." He sighed overdramatically, before he approached me even more. "You know that's what bugs me about you."

"What?"

"That you don't see anything good about yourself." He swiftly grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me onto the countertop. "That you don't see why someone would want to date you, even though there are too many reasons to count. But I guess I just going to have to deal with that. You want to know why? You'll never guess."

"Why?"

He leaned in close as if he was telling me a secret. "Because I like you." He peeled away from me with a giddy expression. His hands gently closing into fists and he stood up on his toes for a split second, like a toddler.

"Boy, do you know how to woo the ladies," I muttered. He was still acting like a cute little kid when I accidentally blurted, "Now all you need to learn is how to stay with them." After the words escaped my lips, I flinched like I was the one on the insultee end.

When I peeled open my eyes, he looked more confused than angry. "Have you been talking to my sister?"

"Your mom, actually." I watched his head bob slowly up and down, the corners of his lips dragging further down, before I added, "That was after I bled through in the Met and she cleaned all the blood out of my pants."

The frown disappeared as he began to process what I was saying. Slowly he worked himself up into a laugh, which in return worked me into a laugh, which then made him laugh even harder. Eventually our laughter died out, just like the transient sense of peace between us.

"Quorra? If you don't want to do this anymore–"

"No–Apollo–" I sighed heavily. It felt like my heart was climbing up my throat, preventing any coherent words from flowing out.

"Breathe," he prompted.

I closed my eyes and took the biggest breath I could before I continued, "It's not like I don't want this to work out, because I do. It's just...I guess I'm just scared."

He had been leaning against the cabinets, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his gaze directed at my feet. He looked like I had wound him up tighter and tighter the more I talked to him. Suddenly he would snap and I was afraid to be in the warpath. Instead, he exhaled and shrugged, "I guess you have been talking to my mom."

I gave a brief giggle, before asking, "So what do we do?"

"Keep on keeping on?" He pushed himself off the wall, walking around me to the cabinets full of glass ware. "I mean, I'd miss kissing you, because you are a reasonable good kisser."

"You're not so bad yourself."

After he poured both of us a glass of water, he smirked at me. "So, I hope you don't mind me asking, but how does a virgin, or former virgin by my doing, learn how to kiss so well."

"So you assume just because I was a virgin means I never had any interaction with another boy."

"No, but you did almost pass out the first time I touched you so…"

"He was my friend…"

"Just your friend?"

"Just my friend." I rested the glass on my bottom lip. "He left before anything could happen."

I feel the awkward silence climax, before he mumbled, "Note to self: don't ask about her past."

I snorted, "Yeah, no fucking shit." I looked to him, resting my empty glass in front of him. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Should I stay away from the past?"

He laughed to himself as he poured me another glass, "That's a pretty broad question."

"What about your past with girls?"

"That's still very broad."

"Girls you liked."

"Keep going."

"Girls that you liked that were like me."

He shrugged once again, "I mean, I don't mind telling you, but it isn't exactly something you want to hear."

"What does that mean?" I scoffed.

For what seemed like the first time ever, he blushed and stared down at his hands. When he turned his gaze towards me, he shook his head and smiled bitterly. "Whenever I like girls like I like you, things normally don't go so well."

"Well that's encouraging–"

"No, I mean it's never my fault. Or theirs. Or sometimes it is. Just don't turn into a tree on me."

I peeled my eyes at him, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were in love with Daphne when she turned into a tree. Phoebus Apollo, are you saying you're in love with me?"

"I said no such thing, Quorra Stevenson," he grinned. Before I could retort, he pushed himself into his full 6'4" self and gestured towards the hallway. "Have you ever seen Pulp Fiction? Because I believe it is about time for you to experience it in your movie career."

"You're avoiding my question." I followed him down the hall to the bedroom.

"No, I'm pretty sure I answered your question."

I decided to leave it alone. It was best I didn't scare him. Instead, we stripped down to our underwear, watched one of the most incredible movies of all time, and then passed out together.

_I laid in his bed, doodling away as I heard him engaging with my brother downstairs. Finn didn't know I was here, or would be happy if he found out. As far as he knew, I was at school finishing some piece I had actually completed days ago. Eventually I heard the door close and open, followed by his footsteps coming up the stairs. _

_Gale slipped in the room with a shy grin on his face that he always wore since the day I met him almost ten years ago. He and my brother had both been in the special education class in kindergarten, because they both had dyslexia. Even though Gale eventually worked his way into the gifted classes, they still remained friends. _

"_Do you remember when we first met?" I asked him, clearing my throat. _

_He nodded, laying down beside me. "You had bangs and were wearing the stupidest overalls I've ever seen."_

_I mocked outrage, "Well I wasn't the one who had those stupid light up sneakers."_

"_Hey, those were pretty awesome. Back off."_

"_You're funny," I sighed._

"_That's debatable," he answered. I watched as his head turned slowly to face me. For the few seconds before either of us made a move, I watched the regular uneasiness in his eyes dissolve and pure, raging hormones take its place. Even though it was more tame than most guys, he still made me feel weak. We exchanged innocent pecks for some time, before he pulled me onto him. _

"_What are you doing?" I laughed nervously. _

_He flushed bright pink. "Sorry, I just–"_

"_No. No, it's okay," I breathed. I placed his hands back on my waist before we resumed kissing. I felt him relax as we worked our way back into the groove. He pulled me closer, his hands gripping my waist under my shirt. He began pulling it up tentatively, slowly working it up to my chest, before I awkwardly stripped it off myself. His hands were cold, but his lips warm as the both covered ground on my chest and neck. Suddenly, my comfortable place on his lap was interrupted. _

"_Oh my god," I moaned, pulling away from him. _

"_I–I'm sorry. I can't help it." We both stared at each other in shock, suddenly becoming aware of our surroundings. His hair was lopped to one side of his head in a messy lump. My shirt was on the ground, along with the contents of his beside table surface, which it had taken down with it. And lastly, in between us was the epitome of boys in a coed gym class: a fresh erection. _

_As I slipped off of his lap, he awkwardly escaped into the bathroom while I put my shirt back on and placed the discarded items back on his table. He emerged from the bathroom red faced and flat pants-ed. Sadly, I couldn't help, but laugh. Soon I had dragged him into my amusement and we were both in humorous tears._

_Once again, he laid down beside me. Every so often, one of us would start the chain of giggling again. We refrained from kissing, yet our hands met in the middle. "Quorra?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Are we ever going to…"_

"_Going to what?"_

"_Fuck."_

"_I'm fifteen."_

"_Almost sixteen."_

_I scoffed, "Like it makes a difference?"_

"_I was just wondering… Under what circumstances would it happen?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe if we ever get together for real."_

"_This isn't together?"_

"_Gale, this is us kissing behind my brother's back." I knitted my hands together. "Together would be like…"_

"_Married?"_

_I rolled my eyes, "Yes. You're going to have to marry me before you can have sex with me."_

"_Okay." He turned on his side, pulled my hands from my chest. "Quorra Anne Stevenson–"_

"_Gale, shut up," I giggled. I rested my forehead under his chin, our hands grasped together. "Would you ever marry me, Gale?" I whispered._

"_Yes," he murmured. "That's kind of what I had been planning, but…"_

"_But?" I continued, removing my face so I could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark grey with a ring of brown towards the center of each, something he determined to be heterochromia even though I hadn't the slightest idea what it was. _

_He sighed, "You know, things happen. You could meet someone else." He breathed hard, like he was unsure of what he was about to say. "Quorra?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_If you get a ticket out of here, you take it. Alright?"_

"_What are you–"_

"_Just don't feel like you're bound to stay here forever. You have potential, but it's not here in fucking Huntington Beach, California."_

"_Are you alright?"_

"_Yeah, I'm just… I've just been thinking."_

_Before I could control myself, the words came slipping out of my mouth, "I love you."_

_He froze. I panicked. _Cry_, my body told me. Before I could take it back, he quickly defrosted, nodding slightly. "I love you, too, Quorra."_


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter is dedicated to my English teacher who has to decided to take a new job at another school. He has taught me more than I could have ever imagined, strengthened my writing and interpretation skills, and given me advice on life that I will never forget. The quotes in this text were taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses and Alfred Tennyson's In Memoriam A.H.H. Both of these texts we analyzed in my class this year and will forever remind me of him.

* * *

I woke up in tears, a hand on my arm, another on my face. "Quorra, wake up," he repeated, shaking my shoulder. When I regained full consciousness, he pulled me to face him. "Are you alright?"

I wiped the tears from cheeks. "Yeah," I mumbled. "It was just a dream." I pulled myself into an upright position, trying to keep myself from crying again. He sat up beside me and leaned against the headboard. I felt his eyes drilling into the side of my face. After my shaking sobs had slowed, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he murmured softly.

"Yeah," I breathed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"No."

"Do you want me to keep talking?"

"Yes."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Just something. You're a poet. Recite a poem."

I felt his body tense, before he began, "A soaring drowsiness possessed her: growing

In earth she stood, white thighs embraced by climbing

Bark, her white arms branches, her fair head swaying

In a cloud of leaves; all that was Daphne bowed

In the stirring of the wind, the glittering green

Leaf twined within her hair and she was laurel.

Even now Phoebus embraced the lovely tree

Whose heart he felt still beating in its side;

He stroked its branches, kissed the sprouting bark,

And as the tree still seemed to sway, to shudder

At his touch, Apollo whispered, 'Daphne,

Who cannot be my wife must be the seal,

The sign of all I own, immortal leaf

Twined in my hair as hers, and by this sign

My constant love, my honour shall be shown.'" He stopped hesitantly. His fingers had tangled themselves in my hair and he pressed his lips to my temple. "Quorra," he murmured.

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone who says it leaves me."

"I won't leave you–"

"Yes, you will. Of all people, I should expect it from you."

"Maybe that's all the more reason you should let me say it." He brushed his lips across my ear. "Please."

"If I do then what will it get me? A broken heart?"

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' Quorra, I can't promise you everything will be perfect, but I promise you I'll try to make it so."

I let a few tears slip, "Why are you doing this, Apollo?"

"Because I'm in love with you."


	8. Chapter 8

I was an emotional wreck the next day. While he was gone, I laid in bed and ate Flamin' Hot Cheetos and cried. I ate leftover pizza and cried. I ate chocolate ice cream and cried. I basically emptied out the entire kitchen and cried. So I guess the moral of the story is if you are emotionally disturbed, make sure your kitchen is stocked.

Hebe found me with half a slice of pizza laying on my chest and a pillow over my face. As she cleaned up the mess I had made, she listened to my sob story. "He knows he's going to leave me, but he has the fucking nerve to try to get me attached to him. I hate him."

"If you hate him, why are you dating him?" she asked, as she threw away the empty Cheetos bag. When I moaned out of anguish, she sighed and laid down beside me. "I know people have probably been telling you things about Apollo lately and I know they're all along the lines of, 'Don't trust him. He's going to leave you.' I'm not doubting that as a statistic that is very likely. But Apollo means well. He's just...emotionally challenged."

"Emotionally challenged?" I scoffed. "Looks like we're both in a sinking boat."

"Apollo's different..."

"How so?"

She hesitantly began speaking. "Apollo was–Apollo **is** the god of light, the god of clarity, et cetera. And that means he's really rational," she paused when I laughed, "And emotions...love, they aren't rational things. They make you do things you wouldn't normally do. They make you lose control. The point is when Apollo tries to use his emotions, he just ends of spinning out of control."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that he's not playing with you. He just…he just can't control himself." She tugged on a strand of her red hair. "Do you love him?"

"I've only known him for three months. How could I–"

"Do you love him?" I rolled my eyes, reeling myself up into an erect position. "Quorra," she prodded. "Answer my question."

"Hebe," I whined, pacing to the door opening up onto the patio.

"Quorra. It's a simple question. Do you love him or–"

"Yes! Yes, I love him. I think about him all the time. He makes me so happy and he makes me feel so safe. I just don't want to have to let go. I tried not to get attached, but I don't think it really makes a difference now. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not–"

"Yes, I am and you know it. Don't pretend I didn't fall for the worst guy possible. Don't pretend this whole fucking relationship isn't a trainwreck waiting to happen. You know, you think by now I would learn how to avoid fucking myself over, but obviously not."

Hebe frowned at me. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, cross legged, her hands in her lap. Her red hair hung in perfect curls around her pale, lightly freckled face. She was incredibly pretty, just like everyone else in this goddamned place. She tried reasoning with me some more, but I only yelled at her again and she eventually left.

I was halfway through Pulp Fiction, when he got home, twenty minutes later than usual. He immediately handed me a Barnes and Noble bag. "What is it?" I asked him.

"Look."

I pulled Ovid's Metamorphoses out of the bag. "Is this what you recited last night?" I whispered, flipping through the pages.

He nodded, "It's actually pretty interesting: Ovid. You see Ovid was a big romance writer and he often...romanticized, for lack of a better term, promiscuity of women and such. But the funny thing was Julius Caesar's daughter and her daughter, Julia and Julia, were great lovers of this work and lived by the codes he set in his earlier works, about the promiscuity and adultery and such. Anyway, long story short Caesar was pretty pissed about this. So Ovid wrote this book and in a sneaky, poetic way bashed the hell out of Caesar."

"You're the biggest nerd," I laughed.

He grinned, "Jealous?"

"You're starting to remind me of my friend actually."

"**The** friend?"

"Yeah."

"Was he a nerd?"

I nodded, blushing. "But he wasn't as extroverted as you. He was a bit more...clumsy nerdy. You're just nerdy nerdy."

"So would it be accurate for me to say that you have a thing for nerds?"

"Maybe I'm compensating for my own stupidity."

"A stupid person wouldn't know how to use the word compensating."

"I honestly just picked that word out of my memory and hoped it made sense."

His brilliant white teeth gleamed in the sunlight as he grinned at me. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. He led me to the French doors that open onto the patio. "Where are we going?" I asked. He instead ignored me and pulled me out of the doors, across the patio and onto the concrete driveway. He let go of my hand as he wandered into the garage.

A basketball suddenly shot out of the garage and into my hands. After he made a beeline to the driver's side of the car, pulling his phone out simultaneously, music began to play. As he rounded the car, he put his hands out for me to pass him the ball. He pulled a couple stupid douchebag dribbling moves before he took a shot. _Swish_.

"Do you ever miss?" I asked him.

"Only if I want to." He retrieved the basketball and passed it to me.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't play basketball," I said, bouncing the ball back to him.

"Everyone plays basketball," he laughed, passing it back.

"Then your definition of everyone must not include me." _Pass_.

"Just try." _Pass._

"No." _Pass._

"Why not?" _Pass._

"Because I'm not going to be able to make it so why does it matter?"

"Fine," he shrugged. He paced past me, walking back towards the house.

"No, Apollo. Stop," I sighed. In a last attempt to dissolve his frustration, I shot the ball as best I could. Even though it didn't go in, it hit the rim, which was greatly surprising for me.

We stayed outside playing basketball and kissing until the light disappeared from the sky. Wandering back inside, the shower rinsed us cleaned with cool water before we made our way to bed. We laid together, intertwined, watching the stars through the glass doors, until we slowly drifted into sleep.

_When my eyes fluttered open, I ached. My body felt like the remains of a battlefield. As I tried to sit up, hands were pressing me back down into the bed. "Finn," I automatically whispered, grasping more and more consciousness with every breath. _

"_Yeah?" he answered, pressing something cold to the side of my head._

"_What happened?"_

"_You fell down the steps."_

"_I fell?"_

"_She pushed you."_

"_It hurts," I moaned. _

"_Well maybe you shouldn't have provoked her–"_

"_I didn't provoke–" I argued, struggling against him. "She was just in one of her moods. It wasn't my fault."_

_He sighed loudly. This conversation had been repeated so many times I knew what he was going to say before he said it. "She's still mad."_

"_When is she not mad?"_

"_Good point." He took away the ice pack and inspected the side of my head. "I'm going to go get you some Ibuprofen." He sauntered out of the room. As he did, I already felt the headache dwindling. Out of the three of her children, I healed the fastest. In a way, it was almost reasonable for her to choose me as her punching bag. I relaxed my body into the bed. I had just begun to drift into sleep when the door swung open violently._

A shrill scream. I sprung upright in the bed, running my hands across my arms and face. The light flicked on a split second after my lungs had emptied themselves of air. I was shaking violently and this time it wasn't from sobbing only until five minutes later. I think he was too terrified to touch me. Only until I slumped forward in a heap of tears did he pull me into his arms.

We laid together, our skin glued to one another by my sorrowful tears. He hugged me tighter, absorbing my trembles as I fell into another bout of tears. His hands skimmed across me spreading warmth and comforted. When my crying subsided, I fell into a weightless daze against his chest, like I had poured all my emotion out and he was holding an empty shell.

"Quorra," he whispered. "You have to tell me."

"I can't," I answered, my voice hoarse.

"Why not?"

"Because everyone I open up to leaves me."

"That's not true–"

"Yes, it is. If I open up, you–you won't like me anymore. I don't even like me. I'm not worth it. Just go back to sleep."

"You are worth it."

"Then how come I've never felt that way? How come whenever I try to open up to someone they leave me for dead or hit me or–or treat me like I'm nothing? Why does that keep happening to me?"

"I don't know why it keeps happening to you, Quorra. It's not your fault. It's theirs. Alright?" He gathered my face in his hands. "Quorra, I don't know why you don't trust me. I can't lie. You know I physically cannot lie." He smiled briefly. "I don't know what you're afraid to tell me, but you can trust me when I say I've probably seen a lot worse." He pulled me into his arms.

We sat in silence for a few moments. He repeatedly ran his thumb across the side of my face, trying to calm me down. "I–I, um, I grew up with my half brother and his mom. And–and I guess being abandoned by both of your parents kind of–kind of sucks to begin with, but… But then, when I was about six, my brother's mom had another kid. And things got shittier financially and for her mentally." I batted the tears away. "And so every so often she...she used to hurt me… And my brother helped some, but eventually he left too. And at that point it was just me and his little brother. And we had nothing, we had fucking nothing, so I–I–I tried to kill myself. And I thought everything would get better when I got to my dad's, you know, be with the people I was supposed to be with. But it fucking sucks. And I don't know why all this shit keeps happening to me. And the more I ask myself why–"

"The more you feel like it's because you deserve it," he finished.

"And I don't want to disappoint you. I don't–I don't want you to waste your time on me."

"I'm not wasting my time, Quorra. I love you."

"Don't say that," I whispered.

"Why not?" he smiled, pulling me close. "You know I'm not lying."

"Well, you picked the wrong girl to fall in love with then."

"******You **would be wrong then."


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the long wait. After overcoming a case of writer's block and a wisdom tooth extraction, I was able to finish this chapter. Another will be posted shortly. Please review. Thanks.

- phoebusapolllo

* * *

He was still in bed with me when I woke up. I was tucked into him, my head nestled into his chest. In child's position I was able to fit comfortably into the arch of his body. "What are you doing?" I muttered, craning my neck back.

"Waking up?" he breathed.

"Why are you here? You should be doing your job."

"I can take days off."

"No," I argued weakly, pushing away from him. "You're treating me differently."

"I'm not treating you–"

"Yes, you are!"

He snapped. Suddenly, all the cheeriness, the jokey vibe, it was all gone. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched. I could feel his body tense as though he was ready to pounce. "Alright, so what? So what if I am? So what if my girlfriend wakes up screaming bloody murder because of some nightmare she had about her abusive childhood? So what if the reason she's overly insecure and hates herself is because she was abused into that state? So what if I want to make her feel like she's worth something? I–Goddamnit, Quorra. I love you, but you are so fucking stubborn sometimes." As he processed the look of pure terror that had grown on my face, he relaxed. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head, trying to calm down. In the midst of trying to control all the thoughts and emotions racing through my head, one slipped out of my mouth, "I fucking love you."

He looked taken aback suddenly, as if I had hit him. "You know, I never thought I'd hear you say that," he mumbled, adding, "Especially not now."

I laughed awkwardly, dropping my head and finding both of our bare bodies. I was naked. He was naked. We were naked, bare, vulnerable. I forced my eyes away. "Yeah, I honestly didn't think I'd say it now either." I looked up quickly to catch him biting his bottom lip and looking me up and down. "What are you doing?" I blushing, pulling the covers over my chest.

He shrugged. "You're beautiful."

"Shut up," I smiled, blushing even harder.

"What can I do to make you feel as beautiful as you are?"

What would make me feel beautiful? I was fully capable of looking as beautiful as I wanted. I could just switch skin, walk around in Kate Upton's for a while. However, even though it was in my grasp to be beautiful, feeling beautiful was something I could only do in my own skin: the stuff I came out of the womb with. So what could I do to feel beautiful?

"Maybe fix my fucking hair," I snorted.

He grinned, "If that's what you want, we can do that. Easily."

Because his hair naturally looked like waves of pure gold, he was unable to immediately help me with my situation. Aphrodite, after interrogating me about my hair dilemma, directed us to a salon downtown that she had somehow already made an appointment with before she hung up. While my hair was getting repaired, Apollo wandered down the streets of New York, meeting me at the door when I was completely patched up.

"So now that you feel beautiful, what do you want to do?" he asked me, tugging on a strand of my hair.

"Take me somewhere," I smiled.

"Where?"

"Just somewhere."

We roamed through the streets of New York, hand in hand. We crossed streets, walked through parks, wandered down the sidewalks, as if we were headed to the end of the world, but we weren't exactly sure where it was and we were too lazy to buy a map. Our actions were seemingly isolated amongst the gusts of people we passed. It didn't matter if we were there or not, it didn't matter if we passed certain people or not, we were nothing.

We passed through some shops, picking up some dressier attire for a Broadway play he had spontaneously decided to take me to. He would every so often slip into the changing room to kiss me. Even though the sales lady wasn't too pleased, in the end, it didn't matter. When we were on the subway to the theatre, an older man offered me his seat and remained standing until I took it. Though I felt bad, I eventually did, and, in the end, it didn't matter. As the audience in the theatre erupted into laughter after a clever joke, Apollo and I were the last ones laughing, unfortunately very loudly and obnoxiously. And in the end, that didn't matter either. Nothing really mattered. Nothing was numbing. Nothing was energising. Nothing was isolated. Nothing was anything.

After the rest of the night flashed by, we found ourselves standing atop the Empire State Building. Two in the morning, not another person around. I leaned against the railing, peering over the side of the world. The cold winds whipped around us, bringing goosebumps, then his warmth to my skin. Our bodies pressed against each other, more limp than alive. I rested my head on his chest, hearing the slow, consistent beating of his heart. Slowly his arms wrapped around me. Slowly his lips parted. Slowly he spoke the words, "I love you."

Like it was the most natural thing I could ever do, I repeated, "I love you."

"I don't think I can let go," was the next thing he said.

"I don't want you to let go."

I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because when I woke up, I was alone in the bed again. On the bedside table, Ovid's Metamorphoses stared me down. So I picked it up and started reading. And I read and read and read. And once I finished reading. I thought and thought and thought. Apollo fucked up...a lot. Apollo was pathetic and naive. Apollo was passionate and selfish. Apollo needed help just as much as I did.

After he got home, which was not far off from when I finished the book, we ended up sitting in the sunroom with him teaching me how to play chess. I was struggling and he could tell. I was preoccupied and he could tell. "Do you want to do something else?" he asked me.

I shook my head, in a slight daze, "No, I like doing this."

He shrugged as he moved a piece and cleared one of mine off the board. I made another weak move and another one of my pieces was off the board within a couple seconds. Another move on my part brought a move of his piece followed by "Check Mate."

I sighed loudly. His mouth opened to say a few words of apology, but something had invoked an urge of sexual frustration and I dove over the small table at him. Our lips smashed together as he caught me. We fell onto the floor, rolling over top of each other again and again. We gripped each other like it was the last we'd ever get to touch one another. I felt my nails dig into the back of his neck and his hands were clamped so tight around my waist I thought I'd bruise. Our mouths were sealed to each others for so long the lessening of the amount of breath intake was starting to make me woozy.

We were both panting by the time we let go of each other. I rubbed my eyes, as if I was waking up from a dream, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

He rolled his eyes at me, "You can do whatever you want."

"That's **very** irresponsible of you, Phoebus," I muttered slyly.

"So are you saying I shouldn't trust you?"

"You don't know me."

"You don't know **me**."

"So we're strangers?"

He shrugged, "On some level, we are."

"And what level is that?"

"I'm sure there's a couple."

"Such as?"

He shrugged, "Family maybe? I don't know your...close family very well and you don't know mine very well either."

"That doesn't mean we're strangers–"

"But that doesn't mean we totally and completely know each other."

I sighed, "Well, I hate to disappoint, but if that's how you're basing our trust in one another, it'll be a long time before we're not strangers."

"I'm never said I don't trust strangers. You implied that I don't trust strangers, because you don't trust strangers."

"Why would you trust a stranger?"

"Because sometimes the people you know know too much." He sat up, balancing me in his lap. "Sometimes the only ones you can trust are strangers."

"Are you hiding something from me?" I whispered.

"No, I'm just waiting for you to find more." His head tilted down and I saw a faint shade of red fill his cheeks. He shook it off, quickly. "Let's go somewhere, eh? Dinner?"

He took me down to some pizza parlor on the corner of inconspicuous and sketchy. Once inside, we were greeted by a heavily accented voice that shouted, "Apollo! Sit down! I'll be with you in a minute!" A dark haired young woman rounded the corner a few seconds later, carrying a platter she served to the table beside us. "Haven't sat down here in a while, Apollo. I was beginning to think you were purposefully avoiding me," she grinned. She shrugged, not waiting for him to finish, "But I guess you have good reason to. Who's this?" She bit her lip, scanning me up and down with intense green eyes.

Apollo shifted, "This is Quorra."

"Quorra. That's an Italian name," she smirked. "What can I get you to drink, Quorra?"

"Just water," I breathed. Our eyes connected for a few seconds longer, before she flashed a crooked smile and turned back towards the kitchen. "What was that about?" I asked.

"She's just like that," he shrugged.

"So you know her that well?"

"There were other girls before you, you know," he grinned. He swiped one of my hands from the table and cradled it in his. "And boys. But mostly girls."

"Oh, I know," I whispered. He raised an eyebrow. "I read the book." He sighed, like he was disappointed. "I thought you wanted me to read it."

"No, it's not that. I just…" He bit his bottom lip, speaking as though he was dropping an inside joke, "I just don't want you to treat me differently." He ran his fingers across the palm of my hand. "I'm not like that anymore." He shook his head, "Not for a long time." When the waitress came back with the drinks, he let go of my hand and smiled at her like everything was great. When she left with our order, the grin dropped from his face.

"So when did you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Being like that."

"It was a gradual process," he whispered. His eyes darted up, the sorrowful look was forcefully dropped from his face. "But that's over now. Now I have you."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm sure you said that to her too."

"Do we need to leave?"

"No, **I'm** fine. **You** were the one who decided to bring me to a place your ex-girlfriend works at–"

"One, she's not my ex-girlfriend. Two, if I knew you were going to get this offended–"

"I'm not offended. It just seems like lately you've been shoving all your past interests in my face."

"I'm not trying to do that–"

"Well, you're not doing a very good job."

He laid back against the booth seat and rested his hands on the tabletop violently. "Alright, then. Why don't we talk about your past interests?"

"This isn't about getting even."

"Then why don't you tell me what it's about, because I don't understand."

"You know, for someone's who's spent the past 5,000 years doing nothing but banging girls, you'd think that you would know something about them."

"So it's my fault now?"

"Who else's fault could it be?"

He shrugged, "Maybe, the fault is in our stars."

"What does that mean?" I snapped.

"It's a quote."

"Of course, it is. It's not like you could come up with anything good on your own anyway." Once again I cringed. Glancing up, I was faced with a very upset Apollo. "I didn't mean it," I whispered. He simply shrugged and remained silent. And that's how the rest of the meal went. Eventually, my anger returned and I forgot about my guilt.

We walked back home, our hands buried deep in our pockets, our head's locked in a forward facing position. We descended into the subway. He passively swiped his card for me and I marched forward, not waiting for him to catch up. I followed the colors of the subway we were supposedly about to be boarding. I found a seat quickly and closed my eyes.

"Quorra!"

My eyes snapped open. Apollo was waiting outside the train. "Quorra, that's the wrong train," he yelled exasperatedly. Slightly embarassed, I huffed and pushed myself out of the seat. I was almost to the door when the automated warning began and the doors started to shut. I attempted to slip out quickly, when my arm was ripped back.

I fell onto the subway floor, my head landing beside two pairs of enormous feet. I sucked in, contemplating my next move as I was lifted up by my arms. They threw me back into the seat I had been resting peacefully in not one minute before. I looked up, and then up a little bit more. The Mist unclouded and two eyes were staring straight back at me. I rolled my eyes and pushed myself out of the seat.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The hand on my shoulder didn't belong to either of the cyclops, so I turned to face the man sitting beside me. I stared into a set of green eyes that matched my own. "Triton, what's this about?"

"Dad's orders," he answered. "I need to take you back home."

"You're kidding," I grumbled. "Couldn't he have just come up and talked to me?"

"Dad's busy."

"Sure, he is."

He rolled his eyes and relaxed against the seat. "I almost didn't recognize you with that new hair."

"Good."

"Do it for Apollo?"

"I did it for me."

"Really…"

"Yes, really."

He shrugged, "The Quorra I knew wasn't too concerned with vanity."

"Changing my hair color has nothing to do with vanity."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"Because… I wanted a fresh start? I don't know, Triton. Why are you asking me these things?"

"I'm just trying to catch up–"

"Well, don't bother. I'm not going to be going back home for a long time."

"Sorry to disappoint, but it looks like your boyfriend's not here to save you. He's forgotten about you just like he forget about all his others."

Maybe it was rage or maybe I had been sitting for too long. Whatever it was, something kickstarted every muscle in my body. I leaped for the pole in front of me, simultaneously turning belly up and shoving my foot at Triton's throat. I landed on the ground, free of any groping hands for the moment. At that second, the train doors slid open and I darted for the door. Up the stairs and through the gates, I ran as fast as I possibly could.

I was in panicked tears by the time I came to a stop in front of Central Park. My hands were shaking and my stomach was about to empty itself everywhere. However, this was all apart of my heightened flight or fight reaction. So I decided flight was my best option. I purposefully got lost in the park. And if that couldn't get any worse, I got stuck in a tree. Yes, a tree.

The sun was setting quickly and it was getting even colder than it already was. I was still in the tree, rubbing my hands together furiously for warmth. I pulled out the phone my father had purchased for me when I first arrived in New York and checked the time. It was 9:49. I had spent almost an hour and a half in the tree. In fact, I had almost fallen asleep in the tree until my phone's vibrations shook me out of my daze.

"Hello?"

"Quorra, where are you?"

"In a tree somewhere in Central Park," I yawned.

"In a tree?" he exclaimed.

Oh, yeah. _The tree sensitivity._ "I can't get down."

He exhaled nervously on the other hand. "Just hold on." I gave him some ambiguous directions to my approximate location and he eventually followed my voice until he was at the foot of the tree. "Okay, try lowering yourself really slowly." As I began moving around, he panicked, "Slow down."

"I'm going as slow as I can!"

"Watch your footing."

"I am."

"Grab that branch right there."

"I know, Apollo."

"Just let go. I'll catch you. Trust me."

"I do trust you. We're strangers, remember?"

Halfway down, I dropped into his arms. "You're shaking," I whispered as he lowered me to the ground. My breath came out with wisps of cool mist.

His came out like a blast of fire. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," I giggled. I rested my head against his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed to a resting pace. "Thank you."

"No problem." He grasped ahold of my cold hands and interlaced our fingers.

"I thought you forgot about me."

"Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to forget you."


	10. Chapter 10

Finnegan Benjamin Stevenson, Quorra Anne Stevenson, and Michael Thomas Stevenson were all children of Lydia Stevenson. They lived in a small, two-story house in Huntington Beach, California. They attended school at the local public schools. Every summer, Finn and his best friend Gale would disappear. However, when they grew older, the two would disappear less and less, until one summer, the summer of Quorra's sixteenth birthday, they disappeared and never came back. Now, one may ask, how did Quorra know her brother was gone for good? How did she react? And how in the world did she end up in Olympus? Well, that, my friends, is an interesting story.

It was the first night of summer. The first night where one didn't have to panic about the next day of social interaction and a depressing amount of condescendence and disappointment in one's self. I had spent the afternoon at the beach, along with the other seven million people who had gotten out as well. By the time I had returned home, I was half asleep.

As a consequence of falling asleep at seven, I woke up at three the next morning. After struggling to get back to sleep, I decided I would attempt the warm milk trick. I returned to my bed, feeling less than satisfied with the effect of the trick, to find my brother's light still on and hear someone rummaging around inside.

I quickly stuck my head in the door, a smile on my face like I caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. Instead, he was packing bags. "Finn, what are you doing?" I asked, slipping all the way inside.

His cheeks flushed bright pink and he hid the shirt he had in his hand behind his back, like it made a difference. "Quorra, go back to bed," he demanded.

"Finn," I stammered. "What's going on? Why are you–"

"Quorra, get out," he hissed.

"No, tell me why you're packing at three A.M." He pressed his lips together. _He doesn't normally pack this early. He can catch a bus any time. No, he doesn't want me to know which bus he caught. He doesn't want me to know where's he's going. _"You're not coming back," I gasped. "Finn, you can't leave me."

He pulled me to the bed and sat me down. "Quorra, I don't want to do this. I **have** to."

"No, you **don't**."

"Shhh." He pressed his hand over my mouth. "Quorra, you don't understand. I've got to go. I've got Gale. I'll be fine."

"But **I** won't. Can you–can I come with you?"

"No, it doesn't work that way."

"Finn, you can't leave me," I cried. "Please."

I watched a range of emotion wash over his face. Finally, he settled on pity. "Alright, fine," he whispered. He pushed me back onto the bed. "We'll leave in the morning. Get some sleep."

I should've known he tricked me. When I woke up, he was gone along with his bag and a good portion of his stuff. The water works started again and I spent most of the day in a crying heap on his bed. The day after that, two missing child reports were issued. The day after that, Lydia disappeared once again. The day after that, I tried to kill myself. The day after that, I woke up completely fine. And by completely fine, there wasn't a scratch on me. So, the day after that, I tried it again. And again, I woke up the next day completely and utterly fine. And I know what you're thinking. It was really selfish of me to try to kill myself when I had someone to take care of. But I had a plan. I had a note addressed to him and another addressed to Gale's dad, directing him to stay with Mr. Vaughn until he could figure things out more thoroughly.

That was a rough week. And by rough I mean discovering I was part zombie after several suicide attempts and one trip to the hospital. They released me that afternoon and I was on strict bed rest, which I completely ignored of course. I felt fine besides the figurative hole in my heart that was slowly devouring me from the inside.

I was on my way to pick Mike up from school when I noticed the car trailing behind me. "Oh Jesus," I thought, walking a little faster. When I got to the spot we always met up at, he wasn't there. I waited a couple of minutes. _Maybe he's packing up still. Maybe he had to talk to a teacher. Maybe he has a surprise for me. Maybe… Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he's dead. _I started toward the doors of the elementary school.

I went back to my old third grade classroom to look for him. Mrs. Aldridge, my old elementary school teacher, greeted me. "Quorra, what are you doing back here?"

"I'm looking for Mike."

She looked confused, "Mike? Mike who?"

"Mike Stevenson, my little brother."

"I didn't know you had a little brother."

"You've been teaching him for this entire year," I almost screamed.

She took a step back. "Sweetheart, I don't know what you're talking about. Are you feeling alright?"

I shook my head and ran out of the door, dodging the little kids in the hall. "Oh my God," I thought. "I'm going crazy. I'm going absolutely insane." I sprint out of the building and back to my house. As I approached the car that had been following me, the driver got out and grabbed me by the arm. "Let go of me!" I yelled.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I just want to talk."

"Leave me alone!" I shouted.

"Quorra, please. I'm not going to hurt you," he pleaded. I paused to gape at the fact that he knew my name, just long enough for him to say. "I can explain everything. I can explain why all these weird things are happening to you. Please, just give me a minute."

I stopped struggling and he let go of my arm. "Who are you?" I mumbled.

He sighed, "I'm a friend."

"No. Who are you, really?"

He looked around. "It's complicated."

I rolled my eyes, "Like you know complicated."

He sighed and pulled out his car keys. When he flipped out the Swiss Army knife, my heart about jumped out of my throat. He put his hand out, "I'm not going to hurt you. Just watch." He pulled up the sleeve of his nice white button up and pressed the knife to his skin. It took me a second to realise that the blood coming out was bright gold instead of red.

My eyes widened. "Oh God, he's a monster," I thought. He wiped the blade off on his dark business pants, then handed it to me.

"Now you try," he said. "Trust me."

So I pressed the blade into the little vein I found on the back of my hand. After a little adjustment, the red aura surrounding the blood disappeared and left me with the bright gold blood that had come out of his arm. I dropped the keys and dabbed my pointer finger into the blood.

The guy retrieved the keys from the ground, "You were checked into the hospital a few days ago. You were pronounced dead, then woke up twenty minutes later." He tapped the back of my hand, "It's because of this." I wiped the remaining blood onto my shorts. He stepped back, "Now, we can either walk back to your house or drive. Speaking truthfully, driving would be more efficient, but I also understand that you think I'm trying to kidnap you."

For the first time, I raised my gaze and got a good look at him. He was handsome: curly, dark hair; big grey blue eyes; pretty nose; a nice jaw line. I realised that whoever sent him to come kidnap me must have had a good understanding of teenage girls. "Who sent you?" I asked.

He smiled a little, starting towards his car. "Your dad."

I almost fell flat on my face as I stumbled after him. "My dad? You mean, like, my real dad."

He nodded and got into the car. He shut the door behind him, so the only way I could continue my inquiry was climbing in on the other side. "How do you know my dad?" I demanded.

He started the engine. "He's my uncle."

I rolled my eyes, "That's a bunch of bull shit."

He grinned, turning the car around. "Why would I lie about that?"

"To lure me in."

"Lure you into what?"

"I don't know. So you can kidnap, rape and kill me."

"If I was going to kidnap, rape and kill you, I wouldn't have wasted so much time getting you into the car."

"Well you were just trying to make it look less...what's the word. Begins with an _s_."

"Suspicious?"

"Yeah."

He sighed, "That does seem like a good plan. However, why would I kidnap you in front of an elementary school, in plain sight, with security cameras?"

Leaning back in the leather seat, I frowned, "Who are you?"

"Your cousin."

"What's your name?"

With that stupid perfect grin again, he answered, "Hermes."

"Alright, this is too much crazy for me. Let me out."

He stopped a couple of houses down. He got out of the car just as I did and started following me down the street. "But does it not make sense? You and me? We can't die. We're special, Quorra. You're special," he called after me.

"I'm not special," I grumbled, marching up the path to my house.

"Do you know why your brother left you?" he called after me.

I stopped dead in my tracks, spun around and marched up to him. "How do you know so much about me?"

Hermes smirked, "I guess you could say I'm a little all-knowing."

"So say you are what you say you are. What do you want with me?"

"I'm just trying to reunite a father and daughter." He walked past me up to the front door. "I'm the messenger god. I brought you a message. Now I've got to take you back as a package." He opened the door and marched in. "You might want to pack some things. I don't think you'll be coming back here for while."

"So **now** you're kidnapping me?"

Hermes sighed, "Now I'm delivering you." He picked up my Chemistry book off the couch. "I'm just doing my job, sweetheart."

I grabbed it out of his hand and threw it back onto the couch. "Say I go with you. What do I get?"

"Well, you don't really have a choice of coming with me, but, if it makes you feel better, you get to meet your dad, live in a palace under the sea, have access to anything and everything your heart desires… Need I continue?" No, he didn't need to continue, because I was already sold from the moment he told me he could explain everything that was happening to me. "I shipped your younger brother off to your aunt's. The only thing you need to do is pack your things and come with me."

Once we were in the car, my things stored safely in the trunk, he started to explain things. "Your father is Poseidon, which might explain any sea-oriented fetishes or connections you have."

"Mother?"

"Top secret."

"Top secret?"

"Top secret." He shifted gears as we got onto the highway. "We're going to New York City. That's where Olympus is based nowadays. We, uh, shift every so often to keep up with humankind. Your dad's place is in the Atlantic just outside of the city." As he changed lanes, he changed topics. "The same reason your blood looked different to you all your life and the same reason your brother's teacher didn't remember who he was is because of something called the Mist. It's something that guards mortal eyes from the mythology realm. We can manipulate it to our advantage. We had to up the potency on your's because you don't belong to the mortal realm."

He switched lanes again. "Because you were born immortal, or because you **are** immortal. Not much you can change about that. Sorry. You're impervious to mortal weapons. All those cuts you got from kitchen knives, figment of your imagination. The only metals that can hurt you are Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold, and Stygian Iron. Man-made bullets will pass right through you."

Lane change. "Now demigods, however. The offspring of ourselves and mortals. They can be harmed by both man-made and mythological weapons. That's what your brother was. A demigod. Offspring of your dad and your mortal, adoptive mother. You're friend was too. Romans, though. We're Greeks. Your dad and I, plus every other god, has a Greek and Roman side. I'm Hermes in Greece, and Mercury in Rome. Different aspects have different purposes, different personalities. Your father and whoever was the immortal parent to your friend were in their Roman aspects when they...procreated."

Lane change. "Now the thing about demigods is that they're very picky about their backgrounds. Romans go to New Rome, Greeks go to Camp Halfblood. Basically they go to camps where they're trained for their abilities. They both had ADHD and dyslexia. The dyslexia is because their brains are hardwired for Latin or Ancient Greek, depending on their background. ADHD keeps them alive when they're fighting."

"Fighting? Fighting what?"

"Monsters," he answered. Lane change. "You know, like Medusa, the Minotaur, the Furies. Just like you and me exist, they exist."

"Are they immortal like us?"

"No, they're killable. But they reform in Tartarus eventually, then resurface. But monsters are attracted to demigods. That's why your brother left. He didn't want you to get hurt."

"So, I live in a world full of gods and monsters."

"No, you **are** the world full of gods and monsters."

"Yeah? Then what am I the god of?"

He shrugged, "I guess we'll find out." He pressed a button on the side of my seat that lowered the back of the chair. "Why don't you sleep on all this and see if you have any questions when you wake up?"

I woke up with an enormous knot in my back and no questions whatsoever. "Ugh," I groaned. My whining quickly subsided, however, because I was faced with a bigger problem. "We're already here?" I exclaimed. "How can we already be here?"

He shrugged, "The Laws of Physics don't apply to me. Or you for that matter."

"No, no, no. We're supposed to be on a road trip. Somewhere in the desert by now. I have to sleep in a bed. And take I shower. I haven't washed my hair in three days. I don't think you understand how unprepared I am." I had my hands braced on the door handle and the arm rest.

"Calm down. It'll be okay."

"No, let me out."

"Quorra."

"Let me out!" I demanded. He sighed and pulled the car over to the side. And once again, we both hopped out of the car and wandered around aimlessly. "I can't meet my dad! What if he doesn't like me!"

"He'll like you just fine. If he didn't, he wouldn't have sent me to come get you in the first place," Hermes said.

"Then why did he send me there? Why didn't he keep me with him?"

"He was trying to protect you. You wouldn't have been safe with him."

"I wouldn't have been safe with an all-powerful being. Alright. That sounds completely reasonable!"

He put his hands on my shoulders, "Why don't we go get back in the car, I'll circle around a couple times, then we can go when you're ready?"

"I'm not going to be ready!"

He rolled his eyes, "Let's walk then." He pulled me along. Everyone surrounding us seemed to go about their normal business, like we were nothing out of the ordinary. Or maybe he was bending his Mist or whatever to make us seem ordinary. At any rate, we continued to talk as we walked along. "I don't understand why you're so scared."

"Because he's gonna judge me."

"You're going to judge him just the same, so why does it matter?"

I shrugged. We walked down a couple more blocks before I had the Empire State Building in my sight. "How did you know I died?" I whispered.

"What?"

"How did you know I died?" I repeated a little louder.

"I was the one that checked you out of the hospital. They told me that you had been legally dead for twenty minutes before you miraculously woke up."

"Did they say anything else?"

"No," he shook his head. "I wiped their memories before they could report anything concrete."

We were a couple building down from the Empire State Building when I began to panic. He grabbed ahold of my vibrating hand and led me into the downstairs restaurant. Down a flight of curved steps, we entered a lower portion of the restaurant. Sitting at the long island table beside the bar were two similar looking men. They looked as if someone had taken two twins, put one in Hawaii to live and the other in some big name city, such as New York. Zeus looked older. His beard had gone grey, but still remained well kept. He wore some suit that I imagine cost more than a four year college tuition. My father, on the other hand, was dressed in lax clothing: cargo shorts and a short sleeve button up shirt. From the sea green eyes and dark red-brown hair, a similar rebellious look, I could tell he was my father. The same way I could tell Zeus to be Hermes' father from his attire, blue eyes and jaw carved by angels.

Before were within a ten meters of them, I quickly glanced up to Hermes. He shrugged as if to say "Calm down," and continued to approach. Hermes' arm slipped over my should, nudging me forward. My father stood up. Just as everyone did, he towered over me. "Hello, Quorra," he smiled, wrinkles appearing in the corner of his eyes.

"Hey," I whispered, trailing off.

"You can call me Dad."

"So we're completely skipping the first name basis?"

He laughed, "Well unfortunately I only have one name, so we would've begun there anyway." His arm swung out to the empty seat beside him. "Would you like to sit down?"

I nodded and took the seat. Hermes sat beside his father, looking less than interested in the conversation. I felt Zeus glare me down as Poseidon tried to make light conversation. "I assume Hermes has already explained your situation to you."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a situation. You can get out of situations."

Both my father and Hermes cracked smiles. Zeus, however, remained with a stone cold expression. He leaned forward, "You will be staying with your father in Atlantis for the time being. However, there are a few guidelines we would like to go over with you, before you depart. Firstly, as a goddess of Greek origin, you will serve under and obey the Olympians, which includes your father, myself, Hermes and nine others. Secondly, as a newly formed goddess, your powers have not been discovered, so you will serve as a protector and diety of your father's realm until the discovery of your true calling, whenever that may be. Thirdly, you will not, under any circumstance, attempt to procreate or seek relationships that may result in procreation. Lastly, if you disobey any of these rules or find yourself fall under the allegiance of any other force, you will find yourself in Tartarus before you can even comprehend–"

"Brother, don't frighten her," Poseidon sighed.

"She needs to understand the consequences–"

"No, I–I got it. It's just like if I'm at school, except this time I'm being forced to try."

Hermes was the only one who smiled this time. Unfortunately, Zeus seemed to be even more infuriated. "Father," Hermes cut in. "Why don't we leave Poseidon to explain the rest to Quorra. She is his daughter after all." After a few more coaxing gestures, they departed.

"I'm sorry about my brother. This is a very stressful time for us."

"Join the club."

He smiled politely and waved the waitress over. After she took my order, my dad resumed speaking. "I know this is a lot to take in, so stop me any time," he warned. He explained the current situation. The prophecy. The threat of imminent death. Lovely stuff, really. And, finally, after I was finished with my meal, he decided it was time to take me home. To a place I belonged.


	11. Chapter 11

It took me a while to defrost. He piled almost all the blankets he owned onto me, which was only about two or three, and slipped under the covers with me. "I'm sorry," I whispered, watching our hands entangled themselves in between us.

"It's fine," he whispered back. His ran his fingertips down my fingers, then back up to encase them into his palm. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"I still feel bad."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't feel bad. I'm saying I'm not angry anymore so you shouldn't worry about it." He turned on his side and pulled me closer to him. "Let's go to sleep."

Throughout the next couple of weeks, we started to get into trouble, like wandering through shitstorms with only a small umbrella of _fuck you_ to keep us dry. And every time we got into trouble, we fell even deeper in love. I guess it was only natural. I had a deep hatred for authority and he had a history, a literal history, of getting into massive amounts of trouble. In that sense, we were perfect for each other. In a lot of other senses too, but unfortunately this was the one that brought us closest together..

During the next month or so, my dad's plots to get me back home grew to new extremes. Several times we ended up running through Olympus or New York with broken ribs and bleeding noses. We avoided trees and instead hid in playground sets or within enormous crowds. He'd bandage us up quick before anyone took notice and we would be on our merry way in no time. It started to happen so often it became a game to us.

"Run, run, run," I giggled as I waited for him to swipe his subway card. When he was by my side again, our hands gripped together and we ran down the stairs. We grabbed the nearest train that was leaving and watched as the cyclops were left behind with confused looks on their faces. "That was fun," I breathed, leaning against him.

He tilted my head up, to examine the bruise on my cheek. "You need to be more careful," he whispered, wiping his finger across my face and clearing it of the mark.

"Says the guy who's lung got punctured when he broke a rib and had to be dragged by a five foot four eighteen year old girl up seven flights of steps–"

"Shhh," he grinned, looking around at the people near us. As the train's brake squealed, he gripped my hand once again and pulled me upright. The doors pulled apart and we were running again. We flew up the steps and into the streets. Every worry or care that I had was a like a broken bond. We escaped down one of the long and twisted paths of Central Park.

We whipped around a corner and suddenly my feet were no longer touching the ground. His hands were at my waist swinging me around like the movies. Swiftly, he placed me on top of the park bench. "Quorra Anne Stevenson?" he grinned.

"Yes?"

"I could run with you forever."

"I could run with you forever, Phoebus Apollo, but it's getting darker and colder and I'm tired."

He laughed, "We can't have that, now can we?"

"Take me home, wonder boy," I whispered.

"Home, it is." He pulled me down from the bench. As I descended, we rippled into the realm of Olympus, right in front of the elevator doors. My footing, however, wasn't ideal and I fell on my butt. "Quorra Anne, are you falling for me?"

I rolled my eyes as he helped me to my feet again. "Stop calling me that."

"What was that, Quorra Anne? I couldn't understand you."

"Stop. I swear to God."

"What are you swearing, Quorra Anne?"

My fist collided into his chest softly, before I took off sprinting in the other direction. In seconds, my heartbeat was racing and my lungs struggled to process the cold air. My nose and ears stung and my eyes watered. My body was trying to slow itself, when I saw someone dart out from behind a tree. A grasp to my throat and my legs were flying forward along with the rest of my lower half. My hands had found their way to the hand around my throat, in a weak attempt to save myself, before my skull hit the pavement and I blacked out.

* * *

Hours and hours of buses. Hours and hours of pointless stops. Before embarking on their eight hour trip of nonstop travel, mental preparation was necessary. No stretch breaks. No fast food. Only a toilet in the back and a limited supply of snacks. "We should go back for her," Gale whispered.

"And what? Bring her with us?" Finn stretched out on the bus stop bench. "For a smart guy, you really haven't thought this through. Have you?"

"You just left your fifteen year old sister and eight year old brother completely alone–"

"My mom's there."

"You're kidding, right?" Gale stood up and slung the backpack over his arm. "We both know that it's probably worse for your mom to be there with them rather than them being alone."

"Alright, well then there's your dad and Bree. They're not alone. Quorra's smart enough to figure something out."

"Yeah, she's smart enough, but do you really think she'll be able to think straight when her brother just picked up and left her–"

"What do you want me to do! Go back there and bring them with us? Can't do that, because they're not like us. Go back and stay there? Can't do that, because that's just putting them in even more danger. There's no good option, Gale. There's crazy and less crazy. This is less crazy."

"But still. Running away from the person who needs you most–"

"She's almost sixteen, Gale. She can't have me protecting her forever. She needs to grow up already." Finn's arms, which were leisurely placed behind his head at the beginning of the conversation, were crossed violently over his chest. His bottom jutted out after he finished responding.

"So this is about you being done taking care of her? You're just too lazy to care anymore?"

"You don't know what it's like."

"No, I don't. But you can't say I never helped."

"Helped?" Finn scoffed. "Sure, you might've comforted her once or twice. But did she ever dodge behind you to make sure my mom didn't kill her? Did you ever have to stay up all night listening to her cry about how much she hurt? Did you ever have to clean up her blood off the floor? Did you ever have to–"

"Okay, I get it, Finn."

"No, you don't get it. I've been taking care of her for sixteen years and she's done nothing for me. She's a self-centered, entitled little bitch."

"Come on. She's your sister–"

"Even that's not true. She's my half-sister."

"Mike's your half-brother and you took care of him."

"Yeah, but at least I know the parent we have in common. I don't know shit about my dad. Other than he likes to shove all of his problems onto me. Maybe that's where she gets it from."

There was a slight pause as they watched a couple walk past. Gale was still poised with his backpack. Finn had loosened up some. "You're not even slightly worried about her–them?"

"I know you like her. You can't stop pretending you weren't fucking her behind my back."

"I didn't–We never–"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Gale sighed loudly, "But back to my question."

"I mean, I am. But, my mom's always loved Mike so he's probably in the clear. And Quorra can't die so she'll be okay, eventually." Finn began to scrap the dirt out of the creases of his shoe with a nearby twig. "Man, you fucked a god," he laughed bitterly.

"I never fucked her."

"Sure."

"I swear to Jupiter I didn't."

Finn raised his eyebrows and threw the stick down when he saw the approaching bus. He slung his bookbag over his arm and reach for the duffel bag. "You can go back and find your immortal fuck buddy, but I'm gonna keep running."


End file.
